


Coaxial

by FlamingLambo



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Multi, Writing Prompt, challenge, infinity's captain is a dork, johnsky, otp, this fluff just got murderously feely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 14:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20009593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamingLambo/pseuds/FlamingLambo
Summary: What starts as a spiral touched off by luck gradually becomes something deeper and more significant as time goes on.





	1. Day One - First Met

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the 30 Day OTP challenge! I'll include links to the music I listened to while I wrote with each chapter, and huge thanks to everyone who cheered me on and harassed me about butts while I was supposed to be working on these. 
> 
> Day one:
> 
> Galaxies, Owl City:  
> [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AaImtAdoicU](link)

Even though he knew the Captain’s epaulets weren’t any heavier than his previous ones, the fourth bar on each shoulder still seemed to carry more weight; but that burden also came with more freedoms.

Thomas reminded himself to slow down a little as he walked. He’s caught himself almost jogging a few times, mostly out of sheer excitement at the opportunity to finally see Chief in person, even though he’d already met him twice. But he’d never seen him without the iconic green armor, and he was eager to finally be able to thank him for, well… _everything_.

_Admit it, you just want to know if he’s as hot as you imagine he is._

Tom felt a bit guilty for wanting to see how far off his imagination was, but as he spotted Chief standing next to an empty Brokkr, obviously too big for the armor mechanism, he was once more gripped with nervous anticipation.

_Alright, uniform in order, back straight, shoulders back…not that much…look like you belong in the role of Captain and for the love of God_ -

He stumbled as he misjudged his step, starting as he scrambled to regain his balance. He caught himself on the railing, and looked up to see if anyone had noticed their newly-minted Captain almost fall flat on his face.

All four technicians and (as far as he could tell) John were looking right at him.

Thomas felt his face go red up to his ears as he stood straight and tugged on the armored tunic to be sure it was straight, then stepped – carefully – onto the walkway leading up to the Brokkr.

“You ok, sir?” One of the technicians to his left asked. Thomas cleared his throat.

“I’m fine. Just here to see a friend.” He said as he looked at John with what he hoped was a friendly smile.

“Ah. Well, you’ve got a few before we can get him out of the armor. He’s too big for the damn assembly, and it doesn’t even have the right tools for half of what he’s wearing.”

“I guess nobody ever thinks of the downsides of being larger than life,” Thomas smiled up at the polished gold visor, but only got the slightest of head tilts in response.

Tom could practically hear the seconds tick by as he waited awkwardly for any other response. Deciding that none was forthcoming, he scoffed quietly at his own attempted joke, and wracked his brain for something else that to talk about.

_You’re captain now, idiot. And don’t smile so much… don’t_ not _smile, just don’t grin like a dumbass._

“So uh, somehow I managed to get promoted to Captain once Del Rio was given the boot,” Tom said as he turned slightly to give John a better view of his shoulders. Another head tilt, the other way this time. Just when he thought his attempt at conversation would be a repeat of the one-sided talk on the observation deck, John spoke.

“I saw. Congratulations, sir.”

He couldn’t be sure, but Tom thought he saw John subtly shift and up and stand a little taller, and a wave of giddiness surged into his chest.

_He noticed! Of course he noticed, he’s a Spartan…but he noticed! Shit, calm down, relax!_

“Thanks. Apparently the brass was pretty pissed with his general cowardice, and the way he treated you.” He leaned back against the railing for a moment before realizing that was probably no way for a Captain to act, and stood up again. “Not to mention he just abandoned you on Requiem with no support or anything to speak of.” Tom rocked on his feet as he talked. He felt shaky and energized at the same time, and reminded himself again to calm down before he said something about clearing LZs again. Palmer was already giving him shit for that.

“Thanks for ‘pursuing’ me in the Pelican,” John said, a hint of humor in his voice as his posture relaxed a little.

It took Thomas a second to figure out what John was talking about, but when it clicked, he was hit with a rush of excitement that caused his face to warm and his pulse to rush in his ears. He wanted to run, or jump, or yell. Explode? Was that an option? What was the next best thing? He clasped his hands behind his back to hide the fact that they were shaking, and drew himself a little taller.

“I'm happy to pursue you any time."

The instant the words left his mouth, he realized what he’d said, and wished he could have phased through the deck and disappeared.

_God dammit, it's the 'clearing LZs' line all over again. Way to go, dumbass._

Before John could give any sort of response, the technicians returned, and Tom stepped back to give them room to work while he agonized over what he just said. He needed to calm down, but he couldn’t help but be excited when talking to John. The Spartan IIs were almost mythical in their own right, and John stood out from that mythos as a legend.

_Of course I’m a nervous wreck. It’s not every day you get to see a literal hero, much less the one who personally pulled you, Sullivan and Orenski from what’s now just another ball of glass._

Thomas watched as the techs started with John’s arms, the individual pieces of the gauntlet’s forearm falling away as they were released. After a few more moments and some quiet swearing, the upper arm and shoulder pauldrons were gone as well. Tom could make out the shape of the arms beneath the tech suit, and a twinge of excitement made his heart race.

_Thirty-one years, and I’m finally going to see what he looks like…why does that make me even_ more _nervous?_

The deck under his feet shook as the breastplate fell from John’s chest; a reminder of just how heavy the Mjolnir actually was. As the technicians began to work on the smaller plates on his abdomen, Thomas caught himself scrutinizing John’s chest and shoulders.

_Wow, he_ is _put together well_.

Thomas followed the contours of John’s chest, noting how average his proportions were. His shoulders weren’t particularly broad, nor were his waist and hips more slender than average. In fact, his midsection was fairly thick, and Thomas knew that was probably due to strong core muscles…

_I wonder what he looks like without the tech suit…what that would feel like if…_

_Stop that!_

Thomas felt his face go hot, and he looked from John’s chest to his still-armored legs in an effort to keep his mind from wandering; now was _not_ the time or the place to be pitching a tent.

The technicians had made short work with the armor on John’s abdomen and the large plates covering his thighs soon fell away like the rest, landing on the deck with a dull thud, followed by the plates on his lower legs.

_Oh fuck he has_ thighs.

As the last pieces of Mjolnir were released from his feet, John stepped out of them and Thomas couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles shifted under the layers of the tech suit’s material, which left very little to the imagination.

_All those years spent wondering, trying not to idealize, and god, what the fuck is wrong with me?_

_He’s_ _hot_ , _that’s what’s wrong_.

_CAN I_ NOT _DO THIS RIGHT NOW? Get a fucking grip, Tom!!_

Even as he tried to re-focus his thoughts, his body had other plans.

_At least the armor stops more than just bullets._

He looked at his feet and sighed, annoyed with himself for not having more self-control, even though he knew there were some things he couldn’t control even when he wanted to. When he looked up again, John was looking right at him.

_Oh god, oh no, shit, say something, something, literally anything_ …

“You look nice!” He said cheerily.

_…anything but that_.

Thomas thought he saw the Spartan’s shoulders sag just before he lifted his arms, and felt even worse until he heard the soft hiss of a hermetic seal being broken. He held his breath involuntarily as the helmet lifted and for an instant he was struck by the handsomeness of John's pale face.

Overall he looked stern, with thin brows set above the most unnaturally bright blue eyes Tom had ever seen. Then John turned his head, and Tom realized that deep set of those eyes and shadows under them wasn’t the lighting.

_Those are_ scars. _Not shadows_ …

He looked weary, almost _grey_ , like all of his humanity had been drained out of him before he'd been hit by a Warthog a couple hundred times, and for a moment there was a depth of sadness to his eyes that was painfully relatable. He’d been there. Maybe not to the same degree as John, or as recently, but he could recall the deep, cutting ache of loss, and was intimately familiar with how that pain could work its way deep into a person’s psyche.

He wasn’t going to let John deal with that alone, if he could help it.

“Nice to finally meet you face-to-face,” He said as he stepped forward. Slowly, John smiled a little.

“It’s good to see you too, sir.” He sounded subtly different without the helmet. Clearer, less tinny. Thomas momentarily wondered if that was due to wear and tear on the Mjolnir.

“I’d like you to come see me in my quarters later so we can talk without being interrupted.” He offered hopefully. John nodded.

“When do you need me there?”

“Whenever you’re available. No rush.”

_Holy shit! He said yes. Oh my god!_

_I need to do laundry_.

“And…I just wanted to say thanks.” Tom extended his hand, but before John could accept the handshake, someone called out to the Spartan.

“Sierra-117, glad to see you on your feet.” Tom looked over his shoulder as someone in a crisp black uniform approached.

_Spooks? Already? When did they get here?! Fuck’s sake, can’t they at least let him try to catch a nap while medical does their exam_?

Before Thomas could open his mouth, the operative had brushed past him like he wasn’t event there and extended her hand to John in place of Tom’s.

“If you would please follow me, I’d like to debrief you ASAP.”

_Oh, hell no_.

"Pardon me but if I remember correctly, it’s protocol to ask permission to board a vessel. I don't recall having the chance to offer you mine," Tom said evenly. "Nor did I get your _name_ , for that matter..." He clasped his hands behind his back again as the operative turned and gave him a smile that almost stank of hubris.

“Pardon yourself, Mister Lasky. This ship is more ONI than UNSC, and the last time I checked your name wasn’t on the pink slip.” She quipped without missing a beat. “And my name is unimportant. The sooner I can debrief Spartan 117, the sooner I will be off of _Infinity_ and out of your hair.”

The sheer magnitude of casual disrespect was almost like being slapped, and he was instantly angry. He glanced the direction the operative had come from as someone approached, and saw Commander Palmer pause halfway to the Brokkr. She gave him a questioning look, and he replied with a slight shake of his head.

“That’s what I…” Thomas cut her off.

“Stand down! That’s an order!” He hadn’t intended to shout, but it had the effect of surprising the operative, so he went with it.

“My name might not be on the pink slip, but _Infinity_ is far from ONI’s personal property.” He continued, his voice still raised. “Bearing that in mind, I’m certain that Osman would not appreciate me having to inform her that one of her people completely ignored UNSC _and_ ONI decorum, all for a sub-par report from an exhausted Spartan who still needs to go through decon and be cleared by medical after surviving a nuclear detonation.” Several Spartans had stopped near the catwalk, probably wondering who was getting a dressing-down from their former XO.

One second ticked by. Two. Then the operative snapped to attention and saluted.

“Yes, sir!”

“So. Please state your name,” He asked, quieter now that the initial anger had given way to irritation.

“Edrikke Pettersen, sir!” She barked, her embarrassment plainly visible in her face and her posture.

“Do yourself a favor, Edrikke. Go have a cup of coffee, or tea. Relax, prepare your debrief, and Spartan 117 will head straight to the briefing room once medical has finished. Let the man catch his damn breath and gather his thoughts before you start grilling him. Are we clear?” For a moment, she looked like she was going to challenge him again.

“Yes, sir!” She spat.

“Dismissed.” He echoed her tone of disgust, and as Edrikke turned to stalk off, she almost ran into Commander Palmer.

“Pardon me, _ma’am,_ ” Sarah said sarcastically as she let Edrikke pass, then joined Thomas next to the Brokkr, and smiled.

“Docs are waiting on you, Chief.”

John’s expression had changed, noticeably this time; he looked surprised, and grateful.

“Thank you, sir.” Thomas was suddenly full of excited energy again.

“Of course. Anytime, Chief.”

John nodded again, and Thomas watched as he walked off.

_Oh, he’s got a nice…_

_You were doing so well._

“Wow,” Palmer’s tone was teasing. “I’ve never seen you get all puffed-up and defensive like _that_ before. Something between you two I don’t know about?”

“What, no!” As Palmer grinned at him, Thomas kicked himself for sounding entirely too much like a child who had been asked if they liked their crush, even if it wasn’t entirely inaccurate. “I just have a problem with ONI spooks bothering soldiers before they’ve even had a chance to get checked out by medical.” He clasped his hands behind his back again as he watched John leave, and Sarah nodded in agreement.

“He’ll live. Hell, an ONI debrief is probably going to feel like a spa day after everything else.” She gently clapped his shoulder, the turned and left him with his thoughts.

_I_ wish _there_ was _something between us…_

_God dammit, Lasky._


	2. Day 2 - Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War affects every aspect of life, and those effects don't go away once the war is won.
> 
> I'm Not In Love, 10cc:  
> [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STugQ0X1NoI](%E2%80%9Dlink%E2%80%9D)

_John!_

Thomas almost felt like his heart skipped a beat, and he was suddenly very aware that he was slouching. He straightened up, making sure that his holographic self looked more presentable, with his shoulders squared and feet apart as he briefed Blue Team on their mission.

“…and Spartans?” Three visors and a collection of camera lenses turned his direction, but he stayed focused on the first one to his right. “Come home in one piece.” It was an effort to cover the concern in his tone.

“Yes, sir.” Came the reply.

Tom closed his eyes as John cut the feed, feeling as if a part of him had vanished along with the transmission, and he let out a long sigh.

“That was quite a show, sir.” Roland said as he coalesced on the table, and Thomas frowned slightly, trying to figure out what the AI was on about.

“A show? I don’t follow.” He watched as Roland crossed his arms and smiled with what almost looked like fondness.

“The phrase ‘to wear your heart on your sleeve’ is such a vast understatement; you humans broadcast your emotions with your entire bodies, and it’s very entertaining to watch. You, especially. The moment you saw that specific helmet on the screen, your infatuation was… _obvious_. Sir.” As soon as he heard the word ‘infatuation’, Tom immediately looked behind him at the door to make sure nobody had lingered.

“Infatuation? I’m not infatuated with Spartan 117, Roland,” He said, far too defensively. “I enjoy seeing and talking to him, and visiting on occasion, but we’re just friends.” He still sounded like he was trying to cover his ass, so he sat down and smiled casually.

 _Relax before you talk yourself into a corner_.

“You think I haven’t seen some of the security feed from your quarters, sir? Not by choice, I guarantee it, but I see everything on this ship.” Tom’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“…with benefits,” he blurted before he could catch himself.

 _Shit_.

Thomas found himself wanting to look at anything but Roland’s amber avatar, whose face was now openly smug, and he found that the edge of the holotank had some very interesting dings and scratches he’d never noticed before.

“Sir, of all the people aboard Infinity, you’re the most important. Like a bright spot in a city. Being the Captain, I get more detailed biometrics than just your pulse and respiration so that I can keep an eye on your health in real-time. Barring occasional excitement whenever Prometheans show up or someone gets sucked into a Forerunner artifact, your baseline biometrics are usually steady, without much variance.” Tom leaned back in his chair, his embarrassment fading to annoyance.

“’Usually’?” He said. He tried to sound skeptical, but honestly, he was curious where Roland was going with this.

“But the moment 117 shows up, your biometrics undergo a sudden, drastic change: your pupils dilate by almost sixty percent, and don’t even get me started on your dopamine levels. You get giddy and talkative; in layman’s terms, he makes you _stupid_ , Sir.”

Thomas felt his face go hot as annoyance became anger, boiling up through the embarrassment of being called out by a glorified Speak-and-spell. How much could Roland _possibly_ know about human nature? Only what he found on Waypoint, surely. After all, he was made for astrogation, not psychiatry. Thomas knew exactly where he stood in regard to his ‘feelings’ for John; friends with benefits, like he’d said. The Covenant War had cost him one too many relationships, and he refused to allow himself to get attached again, especially to a Spartan.

Especially _that_ Spartan.

“You know, for a ‘smart’ AI, there’s a lot you don’t get about humans. We get ‘stupid’ when we see our friends too, and that’s all John and I are: friends,” he said, far more tersely than he’d intended. He stood up as Roland crossed his arms across his chest.

“Sir, I…”

“ _That will be all_ , Roland. Friends.” He barked as he strode quickly out of the room. He was so worried with the knot in his chest that he didn’t hear the AI’s reply.

“You keep telling yourself that, sir.”


	3. Day Three - Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evetually, the truth always outs. 
> 
> Madness, Muse:  
> [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ek0SgwWmF9w](%E2%80%9Dlink%E2%80%9D)
> 
> Castle of Glass, Linkin Park:  
> [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ScNNfyq3d_w](%E2%80%9Dlink%E2%80%9D)

“You take too many risks.” Thomas felt and heard John speak, his head tucked under the Spartan’s chin as they lay there, curled against each other.

“What now?” He murmured quietly.

“Risks. You take too many.” John repeated, quieter this time.

“Well, yeah,” Thomas said as he extricated himself from John’s arms and sat up. “This line of work is just a series of risks, calculated and otherwise. I _know_ you know that, better than anyone. Except maybe Fred…”

“I’m not talking about _those_ risks.” John’s eyes were focused on the fingers of his left hand as he idly fidgeted with a crease in the sheets. “I’m talking about using your rank as Captain to send Blue Team on less-dangerous missions, sending _me_ that picture, keeping up…whatever this is – this relationship – we have. It could have gotten you court-martialed.”

Thomas smiled, despite the embarrassment working its way into his face. John had a point; had it not been for the UNSC being unwilling to sideline their most prized asset and legendary hero, as well as the Captain of their fleet’s flagship, he and John wouldn’t be sitting here right now.

“I couldn’t help it. I mean, the uh, _picture_ was just a bad idea all around, but the rest? You’re _worth_ the risk.”

John’s eyes met his for a moment before he looked away again.

“ _Why_?”

“Why _not_?”

“What do I do to deserve that?” Thomas sighed as he thought for a moment.

“You treat me well, you care about my well-being…about making me happy...and you _compliment_ me.” He felt himself blush. “When you say that you like how _soft_ I am…nobody else ever did...” He rubbed his nose.

“How does that make me worth taking risks?” John was looking up at him now, watching his face.

“I’m not gonna stop, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“I just don’t see _why_ …”

The last twelve hours had been an emotional meat grinder, and John was doing that _thing_ again; acting like people couldn’t or shouldn’t do things for him, like he wasn’t deserving of anything more than what the UNSC saw fit to give him. And it never failed to really piss him off.

“ _Because I love you, John!_ And people take risks for the ones they love,” Anger faded, replaced by a twinge of fear in his gut. He watched John’s face, but aside from brief surprise at the outburst, his expression barely changed. Anxiety twisted in Tom’s chest, and he stared at his hands in his lap as the silence continued to stretch with no response from John, except for that stare.

 _It’s too much, isn’t it? Too much of a commitment_ …

Tom looked up as John levered himself upright, as if to get up, and his chest tightened painfully. But instead of getting dressed to leave, John wrapped his arms around Tom and pressed close to him, resting his head just below his collarbone. He tensed for a second; this was new.

Thomas gently laid a hand on John's shoulder and the Spartan hugged him tightly, the way his fingers splayed out as they pressed into him giving the gesture an almost desperate feel, as if he was afraid Thomas was going to somehow slip out of his arms.

“You alright?” He asked tentatively, almost afraid of getting an answer. He gently stroked John’s shoulder, the muscles under his hand bunched tightly as he nodded into Tom’s chest. He was content to leave things as they were, so long as John said he was ok, until John made a noise against him that sounded like a sniffle, and the shivering breath that came after left his skin feeling cold and… _wet_?

“John? Please…I’m sorry if I upset you.” Thomas felt his gut shift uncomfortably as John took a few deep, shaky breaths. Then he started to talk, quietly, and there was an obvious strain in his voice.

“Sometimes, when we’re apart, I…I can’t stop _wanting_ things.” He was barely audible over the constant thrum of _Infinity_ and the sound of Tom’s own heartbeat in his ears, so much so that he almost missed it when John started talking again.

“It’s almost the same…but _different_. Different from how much I care about my team, and sometimes it hurts just like… ” John trailed off and pulled himself closer to Tom, burying his face between his arm and Tom’s chest.

“Sometimes you remind me of…her.”

Despite reclining under several hundred pounds of super-soldier, Tom felt his stomach drop like he’d stepped off a cliff. He knew exactly who John was talking about, but how could he possibly remind John of her? He shifted so that he could put his other arm around John’s shoulder, and leaned his face against the top of John’s head as he spoke again.

“I feel about you the same way I felt for Cortana…the same way I _still_ feel…” John was running out of words...

“You loved her, John.”

“Then I love you, too.”

Thomas pulled John closer, feeling as if his chest would burst. He’d wanted to hear it for so long. And it felt so right, so normal, like they had been saying they loved each other every day for years.

John sighed and pushed his head under Tom’s chin, then relaxed. Before long, his breathing was slow and even, and Tom found himself drifting off as well.

“I love you so much, John…” He muttered before kissing him softly atop the head. The Spartan made a contented noise, and Thomas let himself go.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the only thing in the way of a good time is other people. 
> 
> On The Wing, Owl City:  
> [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUAdrGKW-94](%E2%80%9Dlink%E2%80%9D)

It hadn’t gone bad for their first time together in public. But, it hadn’t gone well, either. John had been uncomfortable in the crowded café, and it wasn’t a huge leap to figure out why; crowds could hide enemies, provide hostages, block shots…the possibilities were endless, and crowds in an unfamiliar setting were even worse.

John was sitting cross-legged on the bed when he came out of the bathroom, and he broke his thousand-yard stare to look up at Tom.

“You ok?” John smiled – mostly with his eyes – as Tom ambled over to join him.

“I’m fine,” He said, his voice even and confident, the edge that had been there earlier now gone.

 _He_ was _stressed. He just won’t admit it_.

Thomas crawled onto the bed and sat behind John, wrapping his arms around his middle as he leaned against his back, listening to the even sounds of his breathing and the strong thud of his heart, and sighed comfortably when John laid his hands over his arms.

“John,” Tom murmured into his shoulder. “It’s ok if you don’t like going out. We can always stay in and just be with each other, if you prefer.” He kissed John’s shoulder softly, hoping his boyfriend would find the gesture reassuring and know that he wasn’t upset.

*Just worried about you*…

As was normal for John, there was no reply and for several moments. Thomas waited patiently, letting himself get lost in the warmth and comfort of being leaned against the Spartan.

“I want to go out. But the crowds are…distracting.” By now, Thomas had started to pick up on the subtle language that John spoke without saying a word. The pause, and subsequent, slight stress he placed on the word ‘distracting’ was his way of saying that too many people around made him anxious.

Thomas let go of John and laid next to him on his back.

“We can always go out again at an off time…” Tom offered as he smiled up at John.

“Off time?”

"Yeah. Most places are almost empty between 0900 and 1130 hours. There’s a rush when people go in to work, and then another when they all go to lunch or are done for the day, if you want to go for breakfast tomorrow,” He looked at the clock on the nightstand; 2117 hours. “Hell, if you just want to go for a walk, now’s a good time. Almost nobody goes out walking this late.”

John smiled gently, and looked at his hands as he fidgeted.

“That sounds nice.”

“A late-night stroll in the moonlight?” Tom grinned in an overtly suave manner.

_All this time and you’re still an idiot._

“That, breakfast, just staying in…they all sound nice.” John’s voice was quiet, and his pale face had gone slightly pink across his cheeks.

“There’s no rule that says we can only do one of those. Get dressed, let’s go for a walk. We’ll see if we can’t find a place to get breakfast in the morning, then stay home in the afternoon.”

A wide grin spread across John’s face, and before Thomas could sit up, he leaned down and kissed him softly. Tom laughed into the kiss, then got up with John to get ready for a walk.


End file.
